“别动!”他嚷道。
“使劲喘气，我能找着你。
”他找到了。她以为自己已经到了那个相会的地点，正在为他的失信而哭泣呢。这时候再去红种人的房子里幽会已经来不及了，于是他们就地倒下。事后，他刺伤她的小腿以冒充蛇咬，这样她没有准时去给烟叶打虫子就有了借口。他详细地指导她沿小溪抄近路回去，并目送她消失。上路的时候天已大亮，他把衣服拿在手里。突然，一辆大车从转弯处向他隆隆驶来。赶车的怒目圆睁，举起鞭子；坐在他身旁的女人一下子捂住了脸。可是鞭梢还没抽上西克索靛青的屁股，他早已溶进了树林。
他以独特的方式把故事讲给保罗•F、黑尔、保罗•A和保罗•D，让他们笑出了眼泪。夜里西克索漫步林间。是去跳舞，他说，为了让他的血统后继有人，他说。他这么做了，秘密地，就他自个儿。他们其他几个谁都没有见过，但是想象得出来，他们在心中描摹的图景使他们急于去笑话他———在白天，也就是安全的时候。
但那是在他因为没有前途而停止说英语之前。因为有“三十英里女子”，西克索是唯一不因渴望塞丝而瘫痪的人。二十五年来，保罗•D始终想象不出有比跟她性交更好的事情。他自己的愚蠢引他发笑，当他转过身去面对她时，他觉得自己可真是冒傻气。塞丝闭着眼睛，头发乱作一团。从这个角度看，缺少了闪亮的眼睛，她的脸并不那么动人。所以肯定是她的眼睛让他一直既不敢造次又欲火中烧。没有它们，她的脸是驯顺的———是一张他能控制的脸。也许，假如她一直那样合上眼睛……可是不，还有她的嘴呢。很美。黑尔从不知道他拥有的是什么。
即使闭着眼睛，塞丝也知道他在凝视自己的脸。她的脑海里浮现出一幅图画：她看起来该有多么难看。可他的凝视里依然没有讥讽，很温柔，好像一种期待般的温柔。他没在品评她———或者说品评了，但没有拿她去作比较。除了黑尔以外，还没有哪个男人这样看过她：不是爱慕，也不是情炽如火，而是感兴趣，仿佛在检验一穗玉米的质量。黑尔与其说是个丈夫，不如说更像个兄长。
比起一个男人的基本要求，他的关怀更接近家庭的亲情。有好几年，只有星期天他们才能在阳光下看见对方。其余时间里，他们在黑暗中说话、抚摸或者吃饭。黎明前的黑暗和日落后的昏暝。所以彼此凝视成了周日早间的一大乐事。黑尔仔细地端详她，似乎要将阳光中所见的一切都贮存起来，留给他在这个星期其余部分看到的模糊的影子。而他拥有的时间是这么少。干完了“甜蜜之家”的工作，星期天下午还要去还为母亲欠下的债。当他请求塞丝做他的妻子时，她欣然答允，然后就不知道下一步该怎么办了。得有个仪式，不是吗？来个牧师，跳跳舞，一次派对，总得有点什么。她和加纳太太是那儿仅有的女人，所以她决定去问她。
“黑尔和我想结婚，加纳太太。
”
“我听说了。
”她微笑道，“他跟加纳先生说了这事儿。你是不是已经怀上了？
”
“没有，太太。
”
“嗯，你会的。你知道的，对吗？
”
“是，太太。
”
“黑尔不错，塞丝。他会好好待你的。
”
“可我的意思是我们想结婚。
”
“你刚刚说了。我说可以。
”
“能有婚礼吗？
”
加纳太太放下勺子。她大笑了一会儿，摸着塞丝的头，说：
“你这孩子真可爱。
”就没再说什么。
塞丝偷偷缝了件裙衣；黑尔把套马索挂在她小屋的墙壁上。在小屋泥地面的草荐上，他们第三次结合。前两次是在那一小块玉米地里，加纳先生之所以保留它，是因为这种庄稼牲口和人都能食用。黑尔和塞丝都以为自己很隐蔽。他们伏在玉米秆中间，什么也看不见，包括谁都看得见的、在他们头顶波动的玉米穗。
塞丝笑自己和黑尔有多笨。连乌鸦都知道了，还飞过来看。她把叠着的脚放下，忍着不笑出声来。
从一只小牛到一个小妞的飞跃，保罗•D心想，并没有那么巨大。不像黑尔相信的那么巨大。不在她屋里，而把她带到玉米地，离开竞争失败者们的小屋一码远，这是温存的表示。黑尔本想给塞丝保密，不料弄成了公共展览。谁愿意在宁静无云的一天错过玉米地里的一场好戏呢？
他、西克索和另外两个保罗坐在“兄弟”下面，用瓢往脑袋上浇水，眼睛透过流淌下来的井水，观看下边田里遭殃的玉米穗。大晌午观看玉米秆跳舞，坐在那儿像狗一样勃起，是那么那么那么地难受。从头顶流下的水让情况更糟。
保罗•D叹了口气，转过身去。塞丝也趁他挪动的当儿换了个姿势。看着保罗•D的后背，她想起了那些被碰坏的玉米秆，它们折倒在黑尔的背上，而她满手抓的都是玉米包皮和花丝须子。
花丝多么松散。汁水多么饱满。
这些观众的嫉妒和羡慕在当晚他们招待自己的嫩玉米会餐上化为乌有。玉米都是从折断的玉米秆上摘下来的，加纳先生还想当然地以为是浣熊弄断的呢。保罗•F要烤的；保罗•A要煮的；现在保罗•D已经想不起来他们最后是怎么做的那些还太嫩的玉米。他只记得，要扒开须子找到顶尖，得用指甲抵在下面，才不至于碰破一粒。
扒下紧裹的叶鞘，撕扯的声音总让她觉得它很疼。
第一层包皮一扒下来，其余的就屈服了，玉米穗向他横陈羞涩的排排苞粒，终于一览无余。花丝多么松散。禁锢的香味多么飞快地四散奔逃。
尽管你用上了所有的牙齿，还有湿乎乎的手指头，你还是说不清，那点简单的乐趣如何令你心旌摇荡。
花丝多么松散。多么美妙、松散、自由。
丹芙的秘密是香甜的。以前每次都伴随着野生的婆婆纳，直到后来她发现了科隆香水。第一瓶是件礼物，第二瓶是从她妈妈那里偷的，被她藏在黄杨树丛里，结果结冻、胀裂了。那年的冬天在晚饭时匆匆来临，一待就是八个月。那是战争期间的一年，鲍德温小姐，那个白女人，给她妈妈和她带来了科隆香水，给两个男孩带来了橙子，还送了贝比•萨格斯一条上好的羊毛披肩，作为圣诞礼物。说起那场尸横遍野的战争，她似乎非常快乐———红光满面的；尽管声音低沉得像个男人，可她闻起来就好像一屋子的鲜花———那种激动，丹芙只有在黄杨丛里才能独自享有。
124号后面是一片狭窄的田野，到树林就结束了。树林的另一边是一条小溪。在田野和小溪之间的这片树林里，被橡树遮挡着，五丛黄杨灌木栽成一圈，在离开地面四英尺高的地方交错在一起，形成一个七英尺高的、圆而空的房间，墙壁是五十英寸厚的低语的树叶。
得哈下腰去，丹芙才能爬进这间屋子，而一钻进去，她就能完全立起身来，沐浴在祖母绿的光芒中。
开头只是一个小女孩的过家家，然而随着她欲望的改变，游戏也变了样。又安静、又幽僻，如果不是刺鼻的香水气味先吸引、继而又熏晕了那些兔子，那里也是完全隐秘的。它先是一间游戏室（那儿的寂静比别处更柔和），然后是个避难所（为了躲开哥哥们的恐惧），再过不久，那个地方 本身成了目的地。在那间凉亭里，与受伤的世界的伤害彻底隔绝，丹芙的想象造出了它自己的饥饿和它自己的食物，她迫切地需要它们，因为她被孤独苦苦纠缠。苦苦纠缠。在生机勃勃的绿墙的遮蔽和保护下，她感到成熟、清醒，而拯救就如同愿望一样唾手可得。
保罗•D搬进来和妈妈同住了；在此之前很久的一个秋天，有一次，她正待在黄杨丛中间，突然，风和皮肤上的香水一齐使她感到冰冷。她穿上衣服，弯下身出去，再站起来时，已经下雪了：薄薄的雪花漫天飞舞，真像她妈妈说起她在独木舟里降生时描绘的那幅图画，丹芙就是因那个叉腿站在船上的白人姑娘而得名的。
丹芙战栗着走近房子，像往常一样把它当做一个人，而不是一座建筑。一个哭泣、叹息、颤抖，时常发作的人。她的步履和凝视都分外谨慎，样子好像一个孩子在接近一个神经过敏、游手好闲的亲戚（寄人篱下却又自尊自大）。黑夜的胸甲遮住了所有窗户，只有一扇剩下。它昏暗的光来自贝比•萨格斯的房间。丹芙望进去，看见她妈妈正在跪着祈祷。这很寻常。然而不寻常的是（甚至对于一个一直在鬼魂活动频繁的房子里居住的女孩来说），有一条白裙子跪在她妈妈身旁，一只袖子拥着妈妈的腰。正是这只裙袖的温柔拥抱，使丹芙想起她出生的细节———想起了拥抱，还有她现在正立身其中的薄薄的、飘舞的雪花，它们就像寻常花朵结下的果实。那条裙子和她妈妈在一起，好像两个友好的成年女子———一个（裙子）扶着另一个。还有她降生的传奇，实际上是个奇迹，和她自己的名字一样，是那次友爱的见证。
Chapter 7
Easily she stepped into the told story that lay before her eyes on the path she followed away fromthe window. There was only one door to the house and to get to it from the back you had to walkall the way around to the front of 124, past the storeroom, past the cold house, the privy, the shed,on around to the porch. And to get to the part of the story she liked best, she had to start way back:
hear the birds in the thick woods, the crunch of leaves underfoot; see her mother making her wayup into the hills where no houses were likely to be. How Sethe was walking on two feet meant forstanding still. How they were so swollen she could not see her arch or feel her ankles. Her leg shaftended in a loaf of flesh scalloped by five toenails. But she could not, would not, stop, for when shedid the little antelope rammed her with horns and pawed the ground of her womb with impatienthooves. While she was walking, it seemed to graze, quietly — so she walked, on two feet meant, inthis sixth month of pregnancy, for standing still. Still, near a kettle; still, at the churn; still, at thetub and ironing board. Milk, sticky and sour on her dress, attracted every small flying thing fromgnats to grasshoppers. By the time she reached the hill skirt she had long ago stopped waving themoff. The clanging in her head, begun as a churchbell heard from a distance, was by then a tight capof pealing bells around her ears. She sank and had to look down to see whether she was in a holeor kneeling. Nothing was alive but her nipples and the little antelope. Finally, she was horizontal— or must have been because blades of wild onion were scratching her temple and her cheek.
Concerned as she was for the life of her children's mother, Sethe told Denver, she rememberedthinking: "Well, at least I don't have to take another step." A dying thought if ever there was one,and she waited for the little antelope to protest, and why she thought of an antelope Sethe could notimagine since she had never seen one. She guessed it must have been an invention held on to frombefore Sweet Home, when she was very young. Of that place where she was born (Carolinamaybe? or was it Louisiana?) she remembered only song and dance. Not even her own mother,who was pointed out to her by the eight-year-old child who watched over the young ones —pointed out as the one among many backs turned away from her, stooping in a watery field.
Patiently Sethe waited for this particular back to gain the row's end and stand. What she saw was acloth hat as opposed to a straw one, singularity enough in that world of cooing women each ofwhom was called Ma'am.
"Seth — thuh.""Ma'am.""Hold on to the baby.""Yes, Ma'am.""Seth — thuh.""Ma'am.""Get some kindlin in here.""Yes, Ma'am."Oh but when they sang. And oh but when they danced and sometimes they danced the antelope.
The men as well as the ma'ams, one of whom was certainly her own. They shifted shapes andbecame something other. Some unchained, demanding other whose feet knew her pulse better thanshe did. Just like this one in her stomach. "I believe this baby's ma'am is gonna die in wild onionson the bloody side of the Ohio River." That's what was on her mind and what she told Denver. Herexact words. And it didn't seem such a bad idea, all in all, in view of the step she would not have totake, but the thought of herself stretched out dead while the little antelope lived on — an hour? aday? a day and a night? — in her lifeless body grieved her so she made the groan that made theperson walking on a path not ten yards away halt and stand right still. Sethe had not heard thewalking, but suddenly she heard the standing still and then she smelled the hair. The voice, saying,"Who's in there?" was all she needed to know that she was about to be discovered by a white boy.
That he too had mossy teeth, an appetite. That on a ridge of pine near the Ohio River, trying to getto her three children, one of whom was starving for the food she carried; that after her husband haddisappeared; that after her milk had been stolen, her back pulped, her children orphaned, she wasnot to have an easeful death. No. She told Denver that a something came up out of the earth intoher — like a freezing, but moving too, like jaws inside. "Look like I was just cold jaws grinding,"she said. Suddenly she was eager for his eyes, to bite into them; to gnaw his cheek.
"I was hungry," she told Denver, "just as hungry as I could be for his eyes. I couldn't wait."So she raised up on her elbow and dragged herself, one pull, two, three, four, toward the youngwhite voice talking about "Who that back in there?"" 'Come see,' I was thinking. 'Be the last thing you behold,' and sure enough here come the feet so Ithought well that's where I'll have to start God do what He would, I'm gonna eat his feet off. I'mlaughing now, but it's true. I wasn't just set to do it. I was hungry to do it. Like a snake. All jawsand hungry.
"It wasn't no whiteboy at all. Was a girl. The raggediest-lookingtrash you ever saw saying, 'Look there. A nigger. If that don't beat all.' "And now the part Denver loved the best: Her name was Amy and she needed beef and pot liquorlike nobody in this world. Arms like cane stalks and enough hair for four or five heads. Slow-moving eyes. She didn't look at anything quick. Talked so much it wasn't clear how she couldbreathe at the same time. And those cane-stalk arms, as it turned out, were as strong as iron.
"You 'bout the scariest-looking something I ever seen. What you doing back up in here?"Down in the grass, like the snake she believed she was, Sethe opened her mouth, and instead offangs and a split tongue, out shot the truth.
"Running," Sethe told her. It was the first word she had spoken all day and it came out thickbecause of her tender tongue. "Them the feet you running on? My Jesus my." She squatted downand stared at Sethe's feet. "You got anything on you, gal, pass for food?""No." Sethe tried to shift to a sitting position but couldn t. "I like to die I'm so hungry." The girlmoved her eyes slowly, examining the greenery around her. "Thought there'd be huckleberries.
Look like it. That's why I come up in here. Didn't expect to find no nigger woman. If they was any,birds ate em. You like huckleberries?""I'm having a baby, miss."Amy looked at her. "That mean you don't have no appetite? Well I got to eat me something."Combing her hair with her fingers, she carefully surveyed the landscape once more. Satisfiednothing edible was around, she stood up to go and Sethe's heart stood up too at the thought ofbeing left alone in the grass without a fang in her head.
"Where you on your way to, miss?"She turned and looked at Sethe with freshly lit eyes. "Boston. Get me some velvet. It's a store therecalled Wilson. I seen the pictures of it and they have the prettiest velvet. They don't believe I'm aget it, but I am."Sethe nodded and shifted her elbow. "Your ma'am know you on the lookout for velvet?"The girl shook her hair out of her face. "My mama worked for these here people to pay for herpassage. But then she had me and since she died right after, well, they said I had to work for em topay it off. I did, but now I want me some velvet."They did not look directly at each other, not straight into the eyes anyway. Yet they slippedeffortlessly into yard chat about nothing in particular — except one lay on the ground.
"Boston," said Sethe. "Is that far?""Ooooh, yeah. A hundred miles. Maybe more.""Must be velvet closer by." "Not like in Boston. Boston got the best. Be so pretty on me. You evertouch it?" "No, miss. I never touched no velvet." Sethe didn't know if it was the voice, or Boston orvelvet, but while the whitegirl talked, the baby slept. Not one butt or kick, so she guessed her luckhad turned. "Ever see any?" she asked Sethe. "I bet you never even seen any." "If I did I didn'tknow it. What's it like, velvet?" Amy dragged her eyes over Sethe's face as though she wouldnever give out so confidential a piece of information as that to a perfect stranger. "What they callyou?" she asked.
轻而易举地，就从窗口所见的情景开始，她走进了躺在她眼前小路上的那个讲了又讲的故事。
124号只有一扇门，如果你在后面想进去，就必须一直绕到房子的正面，走过贮藏室，走过冷藏室、厕所、棚屋，一直绕到门廊。同样地，为了进入故事中她最喜爱的那部分，她也必须从头开始：听密林里的鸟鸣，听脚下草叶树叶的窸窣；看她妈妈匆匆赶路，直走进不像有人家的丘陵地带。塞丝是怎样地用两只本该停下的脚走路啊。它们肿得太厉害了，她甚至看不见足弓，也摸不到脚踝。她的腿杆插在一团呈扇形装饰着五个趾甲的肉里。但是她不能也不愿停下来，因为她一旦停住，小羚羊就用角撞她，用蹄子不耐烦地踢她的子宫壁。她若是老老实实走路，它就好像在吃草，安安静静的———所以她怀着六个月的身孕还在用两只本该停下的脚不停地走。早该停下了，停在水壶旁边；停在搅乳机旁边；停在澡盆和熨衣板旁边。她裙子上的奶水又黏又酸，招来了每一样小飞虫，从蚊子到蚂蚱，什么都有。等她赶到山脚时，她已经好久没有挥开它们了。她脑袋里的铿锵声开始时还好像远处教堂的钟鸣，到这时简直成了一顶箍在耳边、轰隆作响的帽盔。她陷了下去，只好低头看看，才能知道是掉在了坑里，还是自己跪下了。除了她的乳头和肚子里的小羚羊，再没有活的东西了。终于，她平躺下来———想必是平躺着，因为野葱叶子刮到了她的太阳穴和面颊。
塞丝后来告诉丹芙，尽管她对她儿女的母亲的性命那样牵挂，她还是有过这个念头：
“也好，至少我不用再迈一步了。
”即使那个想法出现过，也不过是一闪念，然后她就等着小羚羊来抗议；到底为什么想到羚羊，塞丝自己也搞不明白，因为她可从来没见过一只。她猜想，肯定是在来“甜蜜之家”以前，在她还很小的时候就造出的一个说法。关于她出生的地方（也许是卡罗来纳？抑或是路易斯安那？）她只记得歌和舞。甚至不记得她自己的妈妈；还是一个看小孩的八岁孩子指给她的呢———从水田里弯腰干活的许多条脊背中指出来。塞丝耐心地等着这条特别的脊背到达田垄的尽头，站起身来。她看到的是一顶不同于其他草帽的布帽子，这在那个女人们都低声讲话、都叫做太太的世界里已经够个别的了。
“塞———丝哎。
”
“太太。
”
“看住宝宝。
”
“是，太太。
”
“塞———丝哎。
”
“太太。
”
“弄点儿柴火过来。
”
“是，太太。
”
噢，可是当他们唱起歌。噢，可是当她们跳起舞。有时他们跳的是羚羊舞。男人们和太太们一齐跳，太太中有一个肯定是她自己的太太。他们变换姿势装成别的什么，别的不戴锁链、有所要求的什么，它们的脚比她自己更了解她的脉搏。就像她肚子里的这一个。
“我相信这孩子的太太将会在俄亥俄河血腥的岸上、在野葱中间一命呜呼。
”那就是她当时的想法和后来告诉丹芙的话。她的原话。说实在的，若是不用再多走一步了，那倒也算不上太糟糕；可是想到她自己撒手死去，而小羚羊却活在她没有生命的躯体里———一个小时？一天？一天一夜？
———她悲痛得呻吟起来，使不到十码外的小道上一个赶路的人停下了脚步，站住不动。塞丝一直没有听到有人走路，却突然间听到了站住的声音，然后闻见了头发的味道。她一听见那个说着“谁在那儿？
”的声音，就知道她将要被一个白人小子发现了。就是说，他也有着生了青苔的牙齿，有着好胃口。就是说，当她追寻着她的三个孩子，而其中一个还渴望着她身上的奶水的时候；就是说，在她的丈夫失踪不久；就是说，在她的奶水被抢走、后背被捣了个稀烂、孩子们变成孤儿之后，在俄亥俄河附近的一座松岭上，她将不得好死。不。
她告诉丹芙，有个鬼东西从地底下冒了出来，钻进她的身体———似乎要把她冻结，但仍能让她动弹，就如同在里面留了一具颚骨。
“好像我整个就是一副冷冷的颚骨，在那里咬牙切齿。
”她说道。突然间她渴望他的眼睛，想把它们咬碎；然后再去啃他的脸。
“我饿坏了，”她告诉丹芙，“想到他的眼睛，我要多饿有多饿。我等不及了。
”
于是她用胳膊肘支起身子，拖着自己，一下，两下，三下，四下，挪向那个说着“谁在那儿？
”
的白人小子的声音。
“‘来看看吧，’我心想，‘你的末日到了。
’果然，那双脚过来了，所以我都想好了，我就从脚开始替天行道，我要把他的脚吃掉。现在说起来好笑，可那是真的。我可不光是准备好了要这样做。
我简直是如饥似渴。跟一条蛇似的。咬牙切齿，如饥似渴。
“那根本就不是个白人小子。是个姑娘。是你能见到的最破衣罗娑的穷鬼。她说：
‘看哪。一个黑鬼。可了不得了。
’”
下面就是故事中丹芙最喜爱的部分：
她的名字叫爱弥，世界上没有人比她更需要大吃大喝一顿了。胳膊像麻秆儿，头发够四五个脑袋用的。目光迟缓。她看什么都慢吞吞的。话说得太多，真不明白她同时怎么还能喘气。还有那两根麻秆儿胳膊，结果证明，铁打的一般结实。
“你是我见过的模样最吓人的东西。你在那儿干什么哪？
”
躺在草里，像她刚才自封的那条蛇那样，塞丝张开嘴，可射出的不是毒牙和芯子，而是实话。
“逃跑。
”塞丝告诉她。这是她一整天来说的第一个词儿，因为她舌头发软而含混不清。
“那就是你逃跑用的脚吗？哎呀我的老天哪。
”她蹲下来，盯着塞丝的脚，“你身上带什么东西了吗，姑娘，有吃的吗？
”
“没有。
”塞丝试着换成坐姿，但没成功。
“我都要饿死了，”那姑娘慢慢转着眼睛，察看周围的植物，“还以为会有越桔呢。看着像有似的。所以我才爬上来的。没打算碰上什么黑鬼女人。就算有，也让鸟儿给吃了。你爱吃越桔吗？
”
“我就要生了，小姐。
”
爱弥看着她。
“这么说你没有胃口喽？我可得吃点东西。
”
她用手指梳着头发，又一次仔细地察看四周的景物。她发现周围没什么能吃的，就站起来要走；塞丝想到自己一个人被搁在草丛里，嘴里又没长毒牙，心也一下子提了起来。
“你这是往哪儿去呀，小姐？
”
她转过身，用骤然亮起来的眼睛看着塞丝。
“波士顿。去找天鹅绒。那里有家商店叫威尔逊。
